BEER & BRIMSTONE
by Wingurend
Summary: Brian becomes a religious zealot when god saves his life.


BEER & BRIMSTONE.

It's Saturday and game night at the Griffin house. All the neighbors are there and ready for an evening of bland fun. Except for Joe Swanson, who's sulking in his chair.

Peter goes to see why that is. "What's with the frown little buddy." he said and pinched his friend's cheek. "Are you upset because of the paralyses, huh?"

Joe pushes Peter's hand away from his face. "I've kind of grown used to that Peter." he sighed and turned his head away from the group in a childish display of defiance. Instead, Bonnie jumps to explain her man. "Oh, Joe is just angry you guys never want to play musical chairs."

"I'm so freaking good at that game!" screamed Joe, now the cat was out of the bag.

An apologetic Peter backs away from Joe. Whoa! Don't lose your wheels Joe… I mean head. I'm sure we can find something else to play you're good at." he said and went to check a large wooden cabinet. "They don't call me the g _ame-master-maker_ for nothing."

The statement makes Cleveland interject. "I was there that night Peter and I'm pretty sure those pool players called you a _gay-masturbator."_

"Sounds like they knew him." Sputtered Lois and laughed so hard she almost spilled the evenings fourth glass of red into her lap.

Stewie turns to Brian. "Thank god I don't depend on her for nutrition anymore. Can you imagine? I'd be the Rodney Dangerfield of preschool."

"Nice rack though. I wouldn't mind." Brian disagreed.

"Yeah, wine rack. But just forget I brought it up. I sense we approach this from very different angles." muttered Stewie and edged away from Brian who was stuck leering at Lois.

Peter pulled out a _Hello Kitten Travel Twister_ roll from the cabinet and held it up for all to see. "Hey Joe. What about a round of Twister oh you can't do that either." he smirked.

Joe looks angry as hell, rolling across the room to face Peter, and with an expression of immense exhaustion, he begins to slowly raise one of his paralyzed legs until it, ever so softly bumps against Peter's crutch. "Take that you arrogant bastard!" he yelled and lowered the leg back to the foot-kick.

Peter looked shocked and stuttered. "Did … did you just kick me in the nuts?"

Bonnie is equally shocked and makes all the birds in the garden take flight when shouting. "Oh my god Joe, it's a miracle!"

Joe doesn't look convinced. "Nah, I don't think so. I probably couldn't-

This was the moment Stewie decided to take an already fiercely competitive game night to the next level. "Kicking my dad in the nards, are you!" he screamed and ran to rip the Twister roll from Peter. Then he jumped onto Joe's lap and started beating him with the roll. "Take that you wannabee pedestrian!"

Joe looks completely unfazed as he stoically asks Lois for help. "Lois could you please get your kid off of me?"

But Lois is drunk beyond caring and stumbles over the words when dishing out modern parenting advice. "Come on Joe, he's a baby for crying out loud. Just tell him he has some fancy disease which could kill him if he gets to excited. That's what I do when he throws a tantrum."

Bonnie steps in and pull Stewie off Joe's lap before sitting him down hard on the floor. Stewie turn on the waterworks, which makes Lois jump on Bonnie. Soon the whole room is fighting except for Quagmire. He's playing pocket-pool in a fight-free corner, while watching Lois and Bonnie wrestling on the floor.

…...

The fight is over and everyone is sitting around badly beaten and heaving for air. Peter, who's particular bruised, states in a calm voice. "Well. This must be a new record. We didn't even break out the games this time."

He picks himself up and looks directly at the reader. "What? If you can't handle a little violence among friends, I suggest you go read some Downton Abbey instead."

CUTAWAY:

To the old broad from Downton Abbey sitting in a Chesterfield in front of lit fireplace.

"Please don't. We have no desire, nor the need, to entertain your cousin-fucking audience."

Back in the living room, the guests begins to leave and Peter sees them to the door.

"Night-night everybody. Perhaps next time we rent a place?" he says, friendly waving.

He closes the front door and turns to find Lois passed out drunk on the couch. He hoist her onto his shoulder and carries her upstairs.

Brian approach Stewie, who's dusting himself off. "I didn't know you felt that way about your dad." he said looking all warm and liberal.

"I don't." replied Stewie. "But how often do you get the chance to whale on someone disabled without being in the wrong?"

"So you thought you were in the right there? Interesting." Brian said and left the conversation for the front door.

"Where you going?" Stevie whined. He thought, now game night lay in ruins, the two could spend the evening playing with his Love doll.

Brian paused in the open door. "Well, it's still early so I thought I go out … you know … to get away from this." he said and glanced the living room wasteland.

Then he was gone and Stewie trudged upstairs holding an extremely ragged doll in his one hand.

"I guess it's just you and me tonight, Courtney."

…..

Brian enters the clam and goes to sit by the bar. Jerome looks up from the glass he's wiping to greet one of his finest costumers. "How you doing Brian?"

"Not to good I'm afraid. I just realized my family, and pretty much everyone I know, is poor white trash."

The revelation seems to take Jerome by surprise. "Even Peter? But he looks so doe in those pimp-green pants."

"Especially Peter." Brain said with venom in his voice.

Jerome placed the glass on the counter. "Well. I can't get a read on you white folks, so I can't really help. I thought I did once, with Quagmire. But then he showed his true colors by getting that damn cat."

"Yeah. Cats are the worst. Oh, was his true color white, by the way?" Brian jested.

"Like Congress." Jerome replied before remembering his core-business. "So how about that drink. What can I get you Brian?"

Brian wanted something strong and asked. "How about a Harvey Osvaldbanger?"

"Come on man. You know I'm not aloud to sell those. Not since that business with Reagan."

Brian knew this and wasn't to disappointed. "Give me a _Freud on the beach_ then." he demanded.

Jerome went to shop and was shortly after ready to introduce the counter to a small glass filled with a clear liquid. "You ready dog?"

"Ready." Brian said and emptied the glass in one greedy mouthful. Then he slammed the empty glass onto the bar as Jerome gave him a good, hard slap on the cheek and yelled, with his best German accent. "Don't touch yourself there, you swine!"

"Thanks Jerry. I really needed that." Brian said and ordered a beer to wash down the rancid taste of apple-snaps and humiliation.

Jerome looked a bit upset and told Brian. "Call me Jerry again and I'll serve you half a Freud for free." he sneered and flipped the cap off a beer-bottle with his thumb.

…

Brian is hammered and stumbles from his stool. "I think … I better think. Ha-ha-ha! … No, seriously; I think I have to go home." He mumbles while padding down his fur for the car keys.

Jerome looks on concerned. "You sure you should drive Bri? You had a lot of beers and weird drinks."

"What? … No I'm not going to just drive like this. I'm going to suck really hard on a tic-tac. Then I'm going to drive home. Like a mi-mi misponsable citizen."

Brian locate his keys and staggers out the door. "Good day sir!"

The cold evening air hits Brian like a donkey kick. But after some initial trouble finding, first his car, then it's keyhole, Brian is now snaking his car through Quahog using every patch of asphalt ahead. "Whoa! That crossing came out of nowhere."

The scenery changes as Brian leave the city and head for the mountains following an increasingly narrow road. "Where the hell am I? Better call Peter and ask for directions." He mutters and begins to adjust the radio. _I like big butts_ rings out so Brian turns up the volume and starts to rock in the seat.

He suddenly loses control of his car and slides down a ravine. The car ends up balancing on the edge of a cliff, with Brian unconscious behind the wheel.

He wakes up shortly after with blood on the airbag and realizes the predicament. "Oh crap."

He tries to move around but the car immediately threatens to slide down the cliff.

Faced with the prospect of death, he begins to whine. "Please help me god. I don't want to die here. Not like this!"

Just as the car begins to slide, a thunderous roar catches his attention and when he turns his head back at the road, he sees a guy on a pimped up Harley Davidson pull in. The guy kills the engine and walks down the ravine towards Brian.

The stranger grabs the car by the bumper and drags it to safety. Brian is on the brink of passing out again when a leather clad arm reaches in through the open window and turns off the radio.

"I hate that song." he proclaims and retrieve Brian from the car.

As the stranger carries Brian back to the road in his strong arms, Brian raises his head and says. "But I don't believe in you."

The stranger looks down on Brian and tell him. "But I believe in you."

…..

It's early morning in the Griffin house and everyone, but Brian, is eating breakfast in silence.

Lois is hungover like a cartoon character, whereas Peter looks to be in great shape, building the mother of all sandwiches. "Please pass the pickles, honey."

Lois passes the glass of pickles, looking like she's going to be sick.

But a layer of pickles makes no mother, why Peter continues. "And the anchovies."

The request makes Stewie react. "What on earth are you doing? Can't you see she's ready to pop like that fat guy from Monty Python.

CUTAWAY:

To the fat guy in the restaurant and the waiter who's trying to persuade him to have _a tiny mint._

The fat guy protest and eventually gets up and waddle out of the restaurant while the narrator explains.

"And that was perhaps the best decision Mr. Creosote ever made, as he the very next day began a ten year long journey of dieting and operations. Today he and his wife Maureen enjoys a healthy lifestyle which, they claim, already is second nature to their four children."

Back in the kitchen Stewie looks dumbstruck. "What the hell just happened? … Ok I didn't watch that movie and I've clearly been fed a misleading resume by someone I mistakenly took for a confidant."

Brian walks into the kitchen sporting a short douche bag ponytail and a duck tail beard.

He's wearing brown shorts, leather sandals, a white t-shirt reading; Holier than thou. Around his neck hangs a wooden beat necklace featuring a wooden cross in thefront.

"Good morning sinners."

Stewie takes one look at Brian and eject himself from the highchair with a "Nope." and leaves the kitchen.

Brian sit down by the table and gives Peter's sandwich a disapproving look.

"That quite a spread you got there Peter. Did you remember to thank our good lord for supplying this abundance?"

"Isn't that what church is for?" Peter said and returned to gaze affectionately at the sandwich.

"Well there's this new thing out called saying grace." Brian proposed. Finding this new role as missionary rather becoming. "You should try it."

"No thanks, I'm good. Peter uttered with a mouth full of food. "What's that to you anyway? I thought you were one of those alarmists."

"No, I used to be an atheist." Brian sighed, no stranger to Peter's ignorance. But maybe this time he could use his friend's boundless stupidity to the lords advantage.

"But that all changed last night when I was saved by the lord himself and reborn a believer, hallelujah!"

Chris looks frightened and asks. "Do I have to stay for this, dad? I'm kinda rooting for the other team, you know."

Peter gives his son a warm smile. "No that's ok son, you can leave. Last thing we want is for child service to come sniffing around … again."

Chris hurries away and his escape encourages Meg to try her luck.

"Can I leave too dad, I also root for the other team?"

Peter gives his daughter a disgusted frown. "No you may not. Who do you think you are, Chris? And maybe next time you try to abandon your family, when ass-deep in an unpleasant situation; at least have the decency to make up your own lies. Not cool Meg, not cool."

Meg hangs her head and Brian looks a little insulted. "Unpleasant is kind of a strong word, but back to the issue at hand. Come on Peter. Put down the sandwich and say grace with me?"

"Well, what the hell." Peter said and folded his hands.

Brain lit up like a X-mas tree. "That's great Peter. Oh and I'll get to you in a second, Lois. You look like you could use some Colocism, which is a new purification technique I've developed. It's 50% exorcism and 50% colon hydro therapy and it works wonders with hangovers."

Lois raise her head from the wax tablecloth. "You only turned to God five hours ago and you've already developed a technique to make your surroundings miserable. You really are a manic little pooch, aren't you?"

Brian ignore the insult and continues. "Here we go Peter. Just listen to my prayer and maybe you can say it tomorrow?"

"Whatever." Peter said while secretly hoping there would be no tomorrow if this was a staying trend.

Brian folds his hands and closes his eyes. "Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen."

The words makes Meg burst into flames, and once the smoke clears, all that remains is a pile of smoking ash on her seat.

…...

Brian is standing on Quagmire's porch rehearsing his pitch one last time before he rings the doorbell, looking a bit nervous.

Quagmire open the door wearing a tuxedo.

"Oh it's you. What do you want Brian?" he says, clearly irritated. "I'm kinda busy here."

Brian clears his throat. "Hello my name is Brian and I would like to ask if you have heard the good news?"

The question catches Quagmire off guard and a puzzled expression spreads across his face. "Have I heard … Hey, wait a minute! Did Peter send you? And has this good news, per chance, anything to do with a certain bird?"

"No, no." Brian said, looking every bit as confused as Quagmire. "Why would you … oh! … No the good news I bring, is that you too have a chance to be saved. You! The poster boy of all things depraved."

"Yeah, not today Brian. I have a girl back there I really think could be the one." Quagmire said and held up two crossed fingers for luck. "Maybe some other time." He said and began closing the door.

"Wait!" Brian protested and stuck his foot in the gap like a seasoned Jehovah's Witness. "Maybe your girlfriend would like to hear the news?" he tried.

Quagmire turns his head with a sigh and yells into the house. "Honey! Would you be interested in being saved by the neighbors dog?!"

The reply from the house is swift and short. "No-no!" and makes Brian both sad and wondering. Sad; because of the refusal and wondering if Consuela was there to clean or if she was, in fact, the girlfriend.

Quagmire returns to his living room where Consuela is waiting in the couch with a champagne glass in her hand. Quagmire is about to sit down next to her when his pocket begins to ring and he has to excuse himself. "Un momento mi precioso." he says and answer the call. "Hello."

It's Peter on the phone and you can hear him loud and clearly. "Hi Quagmire. Listen, I just wanted to warn you that Brian has gone into some kind of meltdown and plans to terrorize the neighborhood, door to door."

"Yeah, I know. He's just been here rambling. What the hell is he on?"

"Not sure; rabies I think. He told us this morning, but I was busy considering what to write in my dating-site blurb. Would it be presumptuous to describe myself as a _modern day_ Telly Savalas?"

Quagmire had had enough nonsense for one day and ends the call. "I don't care Peter. Just get your dog under control. Maybe a thorough neutering will stop him from preaching on peoples lawns."

This was not the first call Peter made that morning, so at the Brown's house, everyone is on full alert. Cleveland is on his knees, peaking out the window, from behind the curtain and see Brian approach his house. He pauses halfway up the path to take a deep breath of air and to give the wooden cross a kiss.

He looks mighty pleased with himself as he continues towards the front door.

"Oh no no no no! It's that sanctimonious dog we were warned about. Grab the kids and run for the hills Loretta. This is not a drill!"

…

Peter, Cleveland, Quagmire and Joe are in their booth at the clam. The mood is bad and three of the aforementioned are staring down Peter. Quagmire is the one to say what everyone is thinking.

"So what are you going to do about that religious fanatic living in your house, Peter?"

But Peter isn't overly concerned as he doesn't spend that much time home anyway and brushes off his friends concerns. "Come on you guys. It's not that bad. He just found something that interest him. If anything; we should all be envious of him."

"Not that bad?!" Joe protested. "He's outside right now, pitching to have _this den of debauchery shut_ down!"

And to emphasize Joe's point; Mort comes stumbling into the bar, bruised and accompanied by loud protesting. "Everybody knock out and swallow your gold teeth. The kristallnach is back!" he shouts and seek cover behind the bar.

Jerome does a double take. "Nazis did this? Well I don't have a beef with them and I'm pretty sure they feel the same way about me. But when they start to harass my customers, I have to put my foot up."

"Don't you mean down?" Cleveland inquires.

"No. I mean up those nazi's asses." Jerome seethes and head for the door, looking dangerously determined.

Outside The Clam, Brian is in his ace, orchestrating the modestly attended protest. They all look like religious nuts and a guy in the background is even holding up a cardboard sign reading; Denver Broncos - Atlanta Falcons: 34-19.

Brian is standing on a garbage can holding a bullhorn. "Sinners, sinners hear me yell!" he chants to his few but fanatic followers.

The followers immediately chants back. "You are going straight to hell!"

Jerome comes storming out from The Clam, followed by everyone. And they're looking mighty mad. Jerome spots Brian atop the trash can and points a threatening finger at him. "You?! I thought we were friends!" he shouts and run towards Brian, who in return, drop the bullhorn like it's hot and run for his life.

Brian is chased down the street by an angry mob. "I bet Jesus didn't have to deal with crap like this!" he huffs as he is getting some distance on his pursuers.

But a tiny leg, dressed in red pants, suddenly appears from a hedge and trip him up. Brian gets back on his feet and keeps running until he loses the angry mob. Being a pot smoking, couch-dwelling, alcoholic for most of his life – except for the last three days – has really taken a toll on Brian and he's almost throwing up trying to catch his breath.

He takes a look around and discover a burning bush in the distance. Brian walks closer and the bush begins to talk. "Brian Griffin!" it thunders. "You are… Yeah, no this wont work. Too damn hot." the bush complained and transformed into God. Biker jacket and all.

"God?" Brian squeaked.

"That's my name, don't wear it out. Just kidding; that happened a long time ago." said god a little untimely. Then a commotion caught both their attention.

The angry mob appears from behind a hill, spearheaded by a pitchfork wielding Stewie.

"There's the false prophet, get him!" he commands and the mob willingly obey.

God puts a reassuring hand on Brian's shoulder. "Hurry. To the Petercopter." he says and herds Brian to safety

"You have one too? Brian asked surprised.

"No, it's the same one. Fox spend a lot of money on this thing so they thought it a waste only to use it once. I even heard it gets its own spin-off show."

CUTAWAY: To a Fox boardroom meeting where a group of executives discuss possible cutbacks. One executive suggest they make Peter Griffin lose forty pounds to save ink.

They all cheerily agree and the executive with the idea turns his head towards a beautiful young woman and says. "Pleas throw some more money on the fire Mrs. Melody, it's getting chilly in here."

The woman picks up a sack of money labelled _The Trump Lump_ and throws the greens into the fireplace.

Back in the air over Quahog, God is having a man-to-god conversation with Brian.

"Well that was a bit of an overreaction." god says and looks down on the mob. "But one can see there point."

"What do you mean?" Brian asks a little taken aback by the statement.

God looks a little uncomfortable. "Well Brian, to be honest; even I liked you better before you started to believe in me. You were always one of my special little _know it all's_. But the moment you thought you had a divine backing, you became down right obnoxious to your surroundings.

Brian ponders the creators words a while before asking. "So what you're saying is-"

God turns his head and scream into Brian's face. "I say; cut it out you little bitch or I'll fit you with a hemorrhoid the size of a coconut!"

…

A sad and thoughtful Brian is waking down a rain drowned Spooner street while the song "Soft Dogs" by Danish band D.A.D is playing. He stops in front of Mr. Herbert's house when he sees the pensioner standing by a window alone. He gives Brian a friendly wave and Brian waves back with the hint of a smile on his lips.

He walks on and meet a young mother and her daughter. The little girl pet Brian and feed him a few licks of the ice cream she's holding.

The smile gets wider.

Brian walks on and comes up to a young, turn-of-the-century paperboy, hawking newspapers.

"Ekstra - Ekstra! The great depression is over! Read all about here! The president diagnosed with gout. Ekstra - Ekstra!"

Now the smile stretches from ear to ear.

The smile, however, disappears, like me on broccoli night, when he sees the angry mob comes storming down the street and he, again, has to run for his life.

…..

Peter is reading the paper in the kitchen when Stewie enters, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

He pokes Peter's paper to get his attention. "Hey you!" he calls and stretch out his arms so Peter can lift him to his highchair. "That's more like it. You work for me and don't you ever forget it. Yes-yes, you're a mule, aren't you? But you're my mule." he cackles and begins to laugh hysterically.

Stewie suddenly stops himself. "Man I'm cynical before that first cup of Java … Bean me Benson!" he screams to a completely indifferent Peter.

Lois enters the kitchen wearing only pants and a bra. She produces a towel from a drawer and goes to the kitchen sink, where she turns on the water.

Peter puts down his paper. "What are you doing?"

Lois sticks her head under the water and yells. "Washing my hair!"

"What the hell. Why can't you do that in the bathroom?" Peter asked perplexed.

"Because the tap is too low and I don't have time for a bath."

Stewie is still in a foul mood and decides to cut through the crap. "Wake up you nincompoop! She's doing it to excite the dog, since you tapped out long ago."

Lois closes the tap and begins to dry her hair with the towel. "Where's Brian? I haven't seen him around for some time."

To which Stewie only have one thing to say. "Ha!"

Peter doesn't have to put the paper down to answer that. "He's in the broom closet, hiding from _persecution."_ he says casually.

"Lois peeks out from under the towel. "What?"

"Yeah, yeah. He's build himself quite a little nest. He even has WiFi in there." Peter continued. "He says he'll come out in a couple of months, when this whole debacle has blown over."

Stewie gives the broom cabinet an evil stare. "A couple of months huh. Let's hope it's dog-months."

"Fuck you Stewie!" replied the broom closet in a muffled voice.

"Oh. That's not very saintly." replied Stewie, who just had the day's first cup of coffee.

THE END


End file.
